Absolute Beginners
by PhantomSpannah
Summary: Ashes To Ashes: The team are involved in a complex murder investigation. Why is Alex going undercover? Who is sending sinister calling cards? And will Gene be able to overcome his pride and come to the rescue? GALEX!
1. Drugs, Drinks and Dancing

**(REPOSTED – next chapter on way soon) Here we go again – I'm (to quote the Gene Genie) "as nervous as a virgin in a brothel'!**

* * *

"I'd say e's been shot."

"Well 'ow ruddy intelligent of you Raymondo – been at them evenin' classes again 'ave you? Course 'e's been bleedin' shot, you tit – there's a _bollockin' bullet wound_ in 'is chest!"

Gene Hunt shot his Duty Sergeant a dirty look; his face ruddy and his eyes blazing. Ray Carling wiped the smirk from his face and had the sense to look suitably abashed.

"Right, you lot, any other smart observations?" The DCI glared around at his officers, daring one of them to speak up and challenge his authority.

"Well-"

"Not now, Christopher!" Hunt snapped, and DC Skelton quickly swallowed the rest of his contribution.

"Come on then, Drake – let's hear the verdict."

Hunt rounded on DI Alex Drake, who didn't quail under his furious glare, but stood, hand on hip, and stared right back at him.

"Drugs," she stated simply.

"'Ere, 'ow can you know that?" Ray stepped forward, frowning.

"This is how most modern-day victims lo-" She stopped, realising that she had been about to refer to the drug-infested tomorrows that wouldn't happen for another twenty-seven years. Coughing, she changed tack,

"Just an educated guess - take a look at his arm, Ray," Alex pointed down at the body. The DS puffed on his cigarette and rolled the lifeless arm back with the tip of his boot.

"DS Carling! Drake asked you to take a shufti at his arm – **not** give him a good kicking!"

The DCI once more asserted his authority, and Ray shot him a dirty look, before bending down to the corpse, and rolling up its sleeves.

Alex Drake carried on, not in the least bit perturbed: "See the track marks and the raised veins?" She pointed them out to a curious Ray, who raised his eyebrows in surprise and looked up at Hunt.

"She's right, ya know Guv."

"Any idea what we're talkin' 'bout here?" suddenly serious, the DCI bent down to take a closer look.

"An overdose of something – I've no idea what though."

She bent down to the body, frowning as she tugged the creases out of the shirt, peering at the blotchy scarlet patterns, "That's odd."

"What?"

Alex's eyes met Gene's, "For such a violent trauma, there's not much blood." She stood up, straightening her legs, and bit her lip, "But if this is what I think it is, then you've got a problem on your hands."

* * *

Back at the station, the team stood over the body on the mortuary slab; surrounded by neatly packaged bags of evidence.

"Just as I thought," Alex Drake commented wryly, "You're in trouble."

"**We** – Drake – **you** are part of this team!" Hunt retorted in annoyance. She always did this – acted all secretive, and then expected them to catch on to whatever she was thinking. He was also getting slightly irritated with this manner she had of distancing herself from the team. She was like Tyler, not quite right in the head, he decided.

"Ok, ok – **we're** in trouble," Alex nodded reluctantly.

"Don't you go forgettin' that," Hunt prodded her shoulder sharply to emphasise his point, "Now then – care to explain?"

"Well, the blood tests are back, and cause of death was an overdose,"

"So what? Another fairy who can't 'andle 'is drugs – what's new?" Ray was irritated, he didn't appreciate being left out in the cold.

"Well 'e was shot – I mean, 'ow can 'e 'ave done that if he'd already popped 'is clogs?" Chris made his contribution.

Ray scowled and Hunt grudgingly nodded, looking thoughtful.

"Right, Chris – and _that_ is precisely the problem." Alex waved her finger in the air, as though outlining the point she had just made. "So, unless he managed to die twice-"

"-Which is unlikely" Chris put in; Ray settled for rolling his eyes and sighing.

"-He must have first overdosed on drugs, then been shot." Alex finished, ignoring Chris's interruption.

"Er, 'ang on a minute," Ray looked confused, "'Ow do you know 'e wasn't shot first?"

Peeling back the white forensic cloth, Alex pointed to the wound. "There wasn't enough blood – the heart must have stopped beating long before that bullet hit him. The body shows no other signs of trauma – no bruising, no cuts, no evidence that he fought back; and given that there are no rope burns or marks, I'd say he wasn't tied up. So unless he stood there and waited to be shot, there's a much better chance that he was unconscious – or already dead – when he was shot."

They all stood in silence for a while, digesting the information and allowing the cogs to start ticking. Finally, Gene Hunt spoke up, giving his surmised opinion on the case in hand.

"So ladies, what we 'ave on our 'ands 'ere is a problem. Some bloke 'as been dosed up to the eyeballs with liquid shit 'n' then shot. Now, unless 'e was Doctor 'Oo – which before you suggest it Christopher, 'e was not – there's no way in 'ell this is suicide. I will repeat that – 'e did _not_ shoot 'imself. The issue is – 'oo did?"

"'Owever, that is **not** what I'm most worried about." He looked around at them, before leaning down and picking up the smallest plastic bag.

Chris raised an eyebrow, and exchanged a quick look with Ray, "It's a... flower, Guv."

"No." Hunt looked very serious all of a sudden, "It's a callin' card."

"So you reckon it might have something to do with this bloke back in Manchester?" Alex lounged back in her seat, sipping at her glass of red-wine. They had inevitably ended up at Luigi's bar; finishing off a hard day with some equally hard drinking. Chris and Ray were engaged in a drinking game at one end of the bar; the latter grinning triumphantly as his companion nearly toppled off his stool. She and Gene sat in a corner-booth, sharing a bottle of red and the company.

"Like I said – that's 'is trademark – a red flower on every victim – it's gotta be 'im!" Gene was insistent, even through the vast amounts of alcohol he'd already consumed.

"You and you're gut instinct Gene," she sighed, wishing that for once, they could just leave work behind them, and simply enjoy an evening out.

"Look, Drake, you trust me?"

"Not as far as I could – hic – toss you," Alex could feel the warmth of the wine as it rushed through her blood, loosening her tongue.

"Anytime you wanna practice that..." he leaned in and winked scandalously at her.

Rolling her eyes, she reached out a hand to push him away, missed completely, and fell forwards into his lap.

"Feelin' a bit voyeuristic then?" Gene smirked, while Alex dragged herself back up to a sitting position, trying to look nonchalant.

"You wish," she leaned forward, tickling his ear with her whispered comment. Satisfied that she had got her own back, she leaned back in her seat once more. "Fancy a dance?"

"What?" Gene looked at her through bleary eyes.

"A dance," Alex motioned to the speakers above them, "You know – where you move around to music?"

"You are very drunk, Bolly." He shook his head, and reached for the wine.

"Oh come on!" Not taking 'no' for an answer, Alex grabbed his bottle-free hand and gave it a sharp tug. Dropping the wine-bottle, Gene Hunt found himself lurching unsteadily to his feet, the alcohol making his head spin too much to resist.

"Oof!" They collided suddenly, and Alex flung her hands around his neck for support, bending him over towards her. Staggering slightly, he swung an arm around her for balance, unintentionally wrapping one hand around her arse. He wanted to blame it all on the drink, but secretly, Gene had to admit that he wasn't an unwilling participant; part of him had desperately wanted to do this since Drake had first been flung into his path.

"Oh!" Alex squeaked in surprise, and tried to prise his hand off, succeeding only in totally unbalancing herself; her partner soon followed suit. With a yelp of shock, she found herself lolling in a heap on the floor, with Gene Hunt lying across her. Their eyes met in a confused haze of drink and dizziness.

"What are we doing down here?" Alex tipped her head to one side, looking up at him.

"You are very drunk," Gene repeated, trying not to slur his words.

She stared up at him, bringing a hand up to stroke his cheek. Gene almost bit his lip in the effort not to lean into her touch. Her fingers seemed to set a blazing trail across his cheek, burning him with her touch. It took all he had not to respond in kind, cupping her cheek in his rough hand. He knew that he couldn't – shouldn't – she was so far out of his league, that the thought was almost laughable.

"Kiss me."

It was a question, a demand and an uncertainty all wrapped into one.

He looked down at her, his breath caught in his throat. He could drown in those hazel eyes of hers, and wished furiously that he had the courage to do as she asked; all the time knowing that he hadn't.

"What?" He settled for confusion.

"Kiss me," Alex repeated, "I want you to."

"I-" He faltered, not knowing how to answer. Every molecule in his body wanted to take her roughly into his embrace, and snog her face off.

"Don't you want to?" She looked hurt, and it was all he could do not to bend down and take her there and then.

"You're drunk," he repeated again, feeling his self-control wavering.

"Well if you don't..." She let the sentence hang, watching him struggle with his conscience. "Fine," she sat up, shakily, and made to stand up.

Gene had a moment of horror imagining what alternatives she would resort do if he didn't consent to her request. Images of that slimey git, Evan, whirled through his mind, quickly replaced by the terrible, writhing figure of Alex, _his_ Alex, mouth open in rapture, thrashing about under him...

Growling, Gene made his mind up.

The next thing Alex knew, she was flat on her back, Gene Hunt's lips pressed deliciously to hers.

* * *

**New story – new readers? This one has more of a plot – but don't worry – lots of cliffhangers and GALEX tension on the way!**

**R & R**


	2. A Rude Awakening

**Thanks for all the brilliant reviews – enjoy...**

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Sighing and opening her eyes, Alex's jaw dropped in shock.

"Wha...?"

The last syllable was lost to the ether as her brain went into autopilot-mode. Staring around at her immediate surroundings, DI Drake found herself at a bit of a loss. Gene was gone; replaced by curtains, a wardrobe and the darkness of her bedroom.

"What on earth? How did I..." She trailed off again, forcing her mind to return to her last conscious thought.

Drinking... bottles... watching Ray and Chris... Gene's lap... dancing... falling... She remembered: arms, limbs, hands, touching, groping... Gene... kissing her. She bit her lip and grinned to herself, rolling over onto her side with the vague intention of checking her alarm clock...

...And shrieked in shock!

"AAAAARRGGGHHH-ERRRRR!"

Blindly, she kicked out at the thing next to her. All that registered through the shock was that it was big, black and in her bed.

_KERTHUMP_!

"SHIT!"

The something swore and Alex recognised that growl in an instant.

"Gene?!"

Springing up she dove for the side of the bed, peering down at an angry and dazed DCI Hunt, who lay sprawled on the floor, rubbing his head and blinking.

"What the BLEEDIN' HELL are you playin' at, Drake?"

He sat up, looking severely ruffled and pulled a face as he gingerly felt the growing lump on the back of his head.

"I – sorry Gene –" Alex spluttered an apology, before changing tack at the speed of light, "But what in Christ's name are you doing in my bed?"

"Sleeping, you tart – what else? And yes," he looked disgruntled as he answered the unasked question, "My head will survive, thank you _very_ much." Wincing as he patted the lump, he added, "Even if it does feel like I've been through ten rounds in the ring with a thug and his chair..."

"Well that still doesn't explain-" Alex's irritation didn't last long, "Oh come _here_ – let me take a look." She snatched Gene's hand away from the back of his head, which he was prodding at morosely. Patting the bed, she shifted onto her knees, allowing him to sink into a sitting position in front of her. She pushed his head forward and pulled his tousled hair to one side, concentrating on examining the wound.

"_Ouch_ – careful, Bolly!"

"Don't be such a wuss, Gene,"

"I know I like a bit of rough-and-tumble now and again, but – _Jesus, Drake_!" He swore as she prodded the sore patch of inflamed skin. "Was that _really_ necessary?"

Smirking, Alex continued running her fingers over the wound, until she was fairly certain that there was nothing there but the lump.

"You weren't quite so uptight last night..." Gene bit his lip at the pain, trying his luck at conversation.

"What are you trying to say?" She stopped dead in her tracks, one hand caught up in his hair.

"Well," he swivelled around to face her, considering the question with a connoisseur's delicacy, "With you being sloshed 'n' all..." he paused for thought, "...Well, let's just say that you can be soft and loose when you wanna be..." and he winked at her.

Alex gaped at him, "Did we-?"

He looked keenly at her for a moment, as if trying to gauge how she would react to a confirmation of her question. But he soon gave this up, realising that it was just wishful thinking, and shook his head.

"Nope"

The slap came unbidden and open-handed.

_SMACK_

"OW! What was _that_ for?" Gene was more shocked than in pain.

"For trying to _con_ me into believing that I'd be stupid enough to shag you!" Alex was suddenly angry, her eyes blazing and her mouth set in a firm line.

"I didn't _do_ anythin'! You're the one 'oo got 'ammered and threw yerself at me!" He rubbed at his cheek, irritated by her habit of exploding in his direction. She continued to glare at him, so he decided to expound upon his recollections.

"It was a kiss – nothin' else. We danced, you fell, we kissed – and then _you _passed out! I did the 'onourable thing and brought you up 'ere, then took a kip meself – and look at the bloody gratitude I get for it!"

"You should have done the _honourable_ thing and not bloody kissed me!"

"You _begged_ me to, Bolly!"

It suddenly struck Alex that the moment had brought them closer to each other than she had ever intended; they were practically nose to nose, breathing hard and glaring at each other.

"I – was - drunk! She emphasised each word by prodding him hard in the chest.

"I wasn't exactly _sober_!" He grabbed her wrist and pushed it hard back against her, holding it there against her chest.

"Gene," She glanced down at his hand, which was unconsciously pushed against her breast. His eyes dropped down to her cleavage, and seemed surprised to see his hand there.

"Oh," He raised his eyes back up to hers, making no attempt to remove the offending limb. He hadn't realised just how close they were; he could feel her hot breath on his cheek, and see that blue eye-shadow of hers smudged a little across her temple. The room around them seemed very still, and every ounce of his concentration had to go into not buckling under her gaze.

Alex swallowed hard, taking in every inch of him. She noted the slightly bloodshot eyes, the red, hand-shaped mark on his cheek, his bottom lip quivering ever so slightly. She was suddenly very aware of how exposed she was; wearing only a long blue silk shirt and knickers, she was practically naked compared to Gene. Something made her reach out a hand and pick up his tie, which lay loosely around his neck. He looked slowly down at her hand, and then back up to her face; shadows of doubt and confusion etched into his rugged features.

"Bolly..." he leaned into her, not quite touching, his breath tickling her ear. Alex closed her eyes, revelling in the electric feel of his skin so close to hers. Without really knowing what she was doing, she tugged gently at his tie, trying to pull him to her; desperate for him to _do_ something.

"...Time for work," and in an instant, he was gone; off the bed and heading for the door.

Looking back at her dazed, wide-eyed form on the bed, he grinned over his shoulder, and asked with the innocence of a new-born:

"Comin'?"

* * *

Alex Drake slumped down at her desk; she had no idea how she had got to work. She remembered getting dressed; going downstairs; and hopping into the Quattro, but it had all been a blur. She cursed silently at the ability of Gene Hunt to leave her like that - a quivering wreck - and for him to still be in full control of his mental faculties. Giving in to her body's demand for sleep, she sank her head onto her hands, and closed her eyes.

Unbeknown to her, Gene Hunt was in fact asking himself the same question. He didn't know what had possessed him to leave her like that; only that some instinct told him that it was the _right thing to do_. He swore under his breath; this chivalry thing wasn't all it was cracked up to be. He had _needs_, though thankfully Alex hadn't noticed him nursing his arousal into submission – she had been far too busy avoiding his eyes. Sighing, he leant back in his chair, wondering about what could and might have been - if only...

"Guv?" He looked up to see Chris and Ray peering around his office door.

"Ah, the dream-team," he muttered with sarcasm that passed straight by them, "What can I do for you two?"

"We've got a lead on that dead bloke," Ray quipped.

"Yeah?" The DCI raised a tired eyebrow, unwillingly impressed.

"Turns out there's this bloke 'oo was seen around the same area earlier that evenin'" Chris continued.

"'Oo?"

"Some old dear and 'er dog, I think – yeah, Mrs Hamps-"

"The _lead_, you twonk!" Hunt cut him off mid-flow, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Oh – err – right-" Chris looked embarrassed, and struggled to pick up the sentence again.

"Short brown 'air, sideburns, tall, smarmy bloke – been seen down at 'is local yesterday lunch-time – thought we could check it out?" Ray took up where Chris had left off, before rounding on his partner with a hissed "Div".

"That's more like it, Raymondo." With a slight nod of the head, Hunt acknowledged a good job done. "Right – you two get Quattro all fired up – I'll grab DI Drake."

The pair hurried from the room, tripping over each other in their rush to obey, whilst DCI Hunt struggled to shake from his mind the images that 'grabbing DI Drake' had provoked. Rising from his chair, he grabbed his hip flask and gun, and strode out of his office, banging the door behind him. Marching over to Alex's desk, Hunt slammed two palms on either side of her head.

"Wakey wakey, Inspector Drakey!"

Alex's head jerked upwards at the sudden noise; a rude awakening from her nap.

"What the he-"

"I've seen road accidents more cheerful." Gene stared into her bleary eyes. "You can kip in the car – now come on!"

"Where?" Even the simple question seemed a bit much for her addled brain at the present.

"You – me – pub – let's go!" And with that he swooped down and grabbed her waist, hoisting her up over his shoulder, and - to loud protests - carried her bodily from the room, kicking the door shut with his heel.

**

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**

Well, well – not exactly a cliffhanger – but don't worry – I have a few more tricks up my sleeve yet!

**Enjoy! **

**R & R – appreciated as always **

**GeneGenie x**


	3. Divs and Dinner Dates

**Sorry for such a late update – but have been tad busy this last week!**

* * *

"Where's this boozer then?" Reaching the Quattro, Gene motioned at Ray, who opened the passenger door, and he dropped Alex unceremoniously into the front seat.

Looking round at Chris and Ray's raised eyebrows, he quickly added, "What? Dozy tart's 'alf asleep."

Not fooled by their Guv's transparent attempts to deal with his feelings towards DI Drake, the pair exchanged another look and scurried around the car to scramble into the back seats. Meanwhile, Hunt reached down to pull Alex's seatbelt across, and was rewarded with a sharp slap on his hand.

"I can do it _myself_!" she frowned up at him, before adding a quiet "thanks" when she saw an unexpected wounded look flash across his face. She blinked, and the look was gone, replaced by his customary gruff expression.

Slamming the door shut on her, Hunt muttered something unintelligible involving a certain "D-_bloody_-I Drake"; stalking round to the driver's side. Slipping into the driver's seat, he swivelled around to face Ray and Chris, pointedly ignoring Alex.

"So?" He snapped, and Ray quickly spoke up.

"Old Nag."

"What did you just call me?!"

"No, that's what the pub's called," Chris chipped in.

"Right, yeah – I knew that," Hunt growled. Alex snorted with laughter, looking quickly away when she felt Gene glare briefly in her direction.

"Yeah, the Old Nag – down by the river – it's jus' near-"

But Ray was forced to swallow the rest of his sentence, as Gene Hunt slammed his foot down hard to the floor, and the Quattro surged forwards with an almighty roar.

"That's more like it." Hunt grinned to himself, as he yanked hard at the wheel and handbrake, sending them flying around the corner.

* * *

"Another pint, Christopher? Where's yer manners?" Hunt waved his empty glass loudly in the direction of Chris, who leaned drunkenly against the bar. Leaning over to Alex he muttered, "This is a waste of time."

"I never thought I'd hear you say that drinking on the job was a waste of time."

Ignoring the quip, Gene continued, "We've been 'ere for three 'ours and still ain't seen 'ide nor 'air of this bloke. We don't even know what 'e looks like – I mean, 'e might as well be jumpin' up 'n' down on Raymondo's toes singin' 'God save the bloody Queen' – we still wouldnt' know 'im!" He pouted and raise a tired eyebrow in Alex's direction.

"'N' I believe you're bein' a bit 'ypothetical there, Drake," He eyed the nearly-empty bottle of wine next to Alex's glass.

"It's _hypocritical_, Gene,"

"Same thing," he grumbled.

Alex's mouth was too full of wine to reply, so she settled for rolling her eyes and slapping him lightly on the wrist. His senses not overly dulled by the alcohol, Gene automatically grabbed her wrist to prevent a repeat attack. Alex began to tug her wrist free, but soon found her efforts becoming more and more half-hearted as he gripped her hand harder. She put this down to wine, choosing to ignore that it could be anything other than the drink that made her feel this way.

This did not go unnoticed by Gene, who felt an odd sensation of tingling warmth that seemed to spread from her hand to his. Gulping, he met Alex's eyes, and for an instant, saw whatever it was he was feeling mirrored in her gaze.

"'Ere you go, Guv," Chris slurred, spilling half of the pint in the DCI's lap. Dropping Alex's hand as though it were burning him, Gene turned to the interruption and grabbed him by the collar.

"Towel! Now! _Go_!" he shoved the DC away from him, watching as he stumbled back towards the bar. Looking back up at Alex, he saw that the look in her eyes had gone, replaced by a smirk as she glanced down at his soaking trousers.

"Bleedin' 'ell fire!" He grabbed the proffered towel from Chris, who leant on the back of his chair for support, and dabbed hastily at the damp material.

"'Ad a bit of an accident, Guv?" Ray appeared on the scene, grinning as his eyes flicked from Gene's embarrassed mopping to his reddening face. But before his superior could answer, Ray leant down and slammed his hand on the table, lifting it up to reveal two objects.

Pointing first to the beer-stained card he explained.

"I 'ad a word with the bar-man, and 'e told me there was some dodgy bloke 'ere this mornin'. Said 'e comes 'ere regular, like." He raised an eyebrow at them significantly. "So I bought 'im a couple of drinks, and 'e opened up a bit. Reckons this bloke left 'ere sharpish the other night – you know – the night of the-"

"Yes we know – don't go shoutin' 'bout it in 'ere!" Hunt quickly silenced his colleague, but motioned for him to continue.

"Well – said 'e came back 'bout an 'our later, and told ol' Tom – that's the barman – that 'e'd give 'im a tenner to say 'e'd been drinkin' 'ere all night."

"Any idea 'oo 'e was?"

"Well, says 'e 'eard someone call 'im, Mr Right,"

"Care to put me in touch?" Alex leant in, sounding amused.

Shooting her an odd look, Gene turned back to Ray, who continued his story.

"Well 'ooever 'e is – 'e dropped this." The DS tapped the off-white card on the table. "Name of some agency," he whispered conspiratorially, winking at Chris and Gene.

"Plays the streets does 'e?" Gene said in a low voice, and Chris nodded, understanding. Alex stared at them, blankly.

"What _do_ you mean?"

"He likes a turn on the bikes." Gene whispered significantly.

"What?"

"_Prossies_, Drake! 'Ookers... toms... slags... kerb-crawlers... gussets of the gutter... blagger's birds... todger-totty... tarts-of-the-BLEEDIN'-night!"

"Oh, ok – keep your voice down!" Alex looked nervously around at the clientele, suddenly feeling flushed.

"Precisely." Ray stifled a chuckle at the look on her face. "But what's worse is that Mr Right, or whatever 'is name is, left this." He pointed a stubby finger at the other object on table.

The anger and amusement fell from Hunt's face in an instant.

"'E left us a callin' card then." Picking up the single rose-bud he twirled it between his thumb and forefinger, looking darkly around at the others.

* * *

"So Chris, if the suspect is known to associate with prostitutes, what sort of reconnaissance techniques do you think be effective?

"Reconny-what?"

"Spyin', you div!" Ray spat out the insults and rolled his eyes.

Alex had sat the pair down in one of the small offices when they had all returned from the pub, while Gene had disappeared to 'follow somethin' up'. DI Drake had the feeling that she had a lot to teach them about thorough investigative police-work, and they were certainly eager to learn. She had said to Gene once that he needed to give them more responsibility and show them some respect, but could understand why he was unwilling to. They had brought their 1970's-Manchester approach with them to London, and were swiftly learning that the fists-first-questions-later policy just wasn't working. They were like big fish who had migrated from their tiny pond into the vast ocean of 1980's London; it was either sink or swim.

"Right, Ray." She flipped over the chart she was standing next to. "So, if you were going to investigate this prostitute story, what would you do?"

"'Ow 'bout a disguise – undercover like?"

"Excellent."

Ray leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, grinning smugly at Chris, who looked a little confused.

"So we'd disguise ourselves as 'ookers?"

"No, Chris, not exactly. Maybe you could pretend to be a prospective punter, or a passer by?"

"What like wearin' shades in a blacked-out motor?"

"Yeah, like Starsky 'n' 'Utch," Ray enthused.

Alex rolled her eyes, this conversation wasn't getting them anywhere.

"So we disguise ourselves some'ow, then what?" DC Skelton was still interested.

"You tell me, Chris."

"We talk to the girls a bit; find out what they know - maybe take a few in for questionin'?"

"Don't be daft – if we start takin' the toms in, 'e'll run a mile!"

"That's right, Ray," Alex smiled encouragingly, glad to see them taking it seriously. "We need to tread lightly – soft and gentle does it."

"You can be soft and gentle with me anytime you like, Drake." Alex looked around to see Hunt standing in the doorway, a strange object over one arm.

"Do you mind?" She hissed at him, "I am trying to teach Chris and Ray a thing or two about-"

"I bet they love that," he winked at the boys, "You can come and give me lessons after 'n' all."

"You are-"

"The definition of sex-on-legs? Yes I know," he waved the lads out of the room, "Come on, snap-snap, I've seen spastics faster than you two."

Chris and Ray hurried from the room, smirking, and Hunt slammed the door, blocking it.

Alex tore off the sheet of paper she was holding, putting her hands firmly on her hips, and facing him. "And what precisely was the point of that? We were _getting_ somewhere!"

"Shut up and listen will ya?"

Alex shut her mouth in shock, allowing Gene to continue.

"Right, I've got a plan. But I wanted to check it over with you first."

"And why's that? Why the sudden courtesy, Gene?" She was immediately suspicious.

"Well – see – I was listening in and..."

"And what?"

"You – an 'ooker."

"_WHAT_?"

He held up the thing over his arm, revealing the tiny red dress.

"I thought it would be a good disguise – I mean, it worked before – you undercover, I mean – when we were after Neary – pity 'e was gay..." Hunt trailed off, staring fixedly at a spot a foot away from her.

"Oh," she stopped short, realising that he wasn't insulting her.

"I thought that I should check with you first though, you know – case you didn't want to." He, pursed his lips briefly, and looked back to her, looking uncomfortable with this new bout of twisted chivalry.

"No, I don't mind." She looked taken aback, but sounded mildly impressed. "Pretty good plan actually – it could well work." She looked back at him, waiting for him to move from the door.

He stood there for a second or two, as though debating whether to speak or not. Finally, he made the decision and opened his mouth tentatively.

"I don't suppose – I mean, if you're free – not that you'd want to -"

"Want to what, Gene?" Alex looked curiously at him; he looked like a teenager – shuffling his feet and refusing to meet her eyes.

"Dinner – jus' you 'n' me – somewhere nice – I'll pay."

She raised her eyebrows in shock, taken aback by this shy offering. She looked away, then back at him, as he loosened his tie slightly and coughed nervously. How many times had she wanted to see this side of him? And yet, when it came, she didn't know what to do. If she refused him, that would surely put an end to this tension, all the flirting, their precarious relationship. But if she accepted, what was that saying? Would it be another reason not to return to Molly? Was he really a 'construct' at all? What was her subconscious doing to her?

"S'alright... I understand..." he mumbled, and turned as if to go, taking her silence as quiet rejection.

"Ok" She didn't know what had made her say it, other than the fact that it just felt right.

"What?" he turned to look at her, the frown gone, and an easy hopeful expression adorning his features.

"That'd be nice,"

"Oh – right," he looked as taken aback as she felt, unable to believe that his daring had paid off. "Right – tomorrow evenin' then? I'll pick you up?"

"Yeah," she smiled softly and looked away, biting her lip.

"Right – good – right," he muttered to himself, and quickly turned heel, marching out of the room.

Alex closed her eyes and tilted her head back, taking a deep breath as she considered what she had agreed to. Dinner with Gene? Not so long ago, she would have laughed mirthlessly at the very idea, but now – well, now it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. She hugged the thought to her chest, feeling once more, the excitement and nerves of a first date. How was it that this man - this crude, crass copper – had the ability to simultaneously make her feel angry, shy, turned on – and something that felt just a little bit like being in love.

Absorbed in her thoughts, Alex Drake nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard Gene's voice behind her.

"Drake?" She spun round to see his head sticking around the door-frame, something of his familiar gruff expression on his face.

"Feel free to wear that 'ooker's dress tomorrow."

And he was gone before Alex's hand could get anywhere near his face.

* * *

**Well – what do we think?**

**Thanks for all the reviews – keep 'em coming!**


	4. A Change Of Plans

**Thanks for all the great reviews – here's Chap 4 as promised:**

* * *

"_Phweeep-phweeeeww_!" Ray gave a low whistle as Alex Drake made her entrance the next morning at the office.

Her black stilettos gracefully accentuated the smooth, exposed length of her stocking-clad legs, and then further up, the lacy red garters peeking out from beneath the shortest of skirts. The dress itself was barely longer than a shirt, the red material just about stretching to cover the top of her thighs, and lacy bottom. Her modesty barely preserved, Alex knew that most eyes would be drawn to her top half, where the material was stretched so tightly across the curve of her waist and breasts that she felt rather uncomfortable.

To prevent further embarrassment, she had flung her favourite white leather jacket over the top of her new outfit, though she could do nothing to hide the curved dip of her prominent cleavage. The bright, red lipstick and excessive blue eye-shadow highlighted her luscious, full lips and bright, hazel eyes. Her hair, still in its customary perm, seemed somehow more full of life than it had ever been before, sweeping across her face in a wave of hairspray and perfume. Her gold ear-rings jangled against her neck as she turned to fix those sharp orbs on Gene Hunt.

"Well?"

Quickly closing his open mouth, he met her gaze.

"Stunnin'" He raised an eyebrow and took in a deep breath, as though trying to regain control of himself. Suddenly realising that the rest of the team were staring at him, he seemed to shake himself, and added after a pause, "... For an 'ooker, I guess."

Alex frowned slightly, but Gene knew he couldn't help himself. He seemed so close to slipping over the edge these days. Half the time he wanted to strangle her, for being so cocksure and irritatingly right; the other half, he found himself caught somewhere between lust and – dare he say it – more romantic pastures. He didn't want to dwell on these thoughts for now – he had an investigation to look into and a team to run; the last thing he needed was to be falling head-over-soppy-heels for his DI.

It didn't help that she had taken up on his idea so completely either. Going undercover as a prostitute was one thing, but looking as she did now? Surely it was illegal for a woman in her position – a copper - to be so... distracting...

"So, uh, what's yer plan?" Gene forced himself to concentrate on the task in hand, trying to overlook the barely suppressed urge to leap forward and rip that leather jacket off her.

"Well, I thought we were going with the straight-undercover suggestion? -"

Gene tried desperately to ignore the images that the phrase 'undercover' conjured up; his position not helped by the tantalising glimpses of cleavage that Alex was unknowingly flashing him.

"- So I go and mingle with the other escort-girls and see if anything turns up?" Alex finished.

Gene shoved his hands in his pocket and pinched his leg as more unbidden images came into his head. If he didn't get his mind out of the gutter soon, there would be more than the suspects 'turning up'.

"Hmm, yeah." He coughed to clear the slight squeak in his voice, and took up a manlier stance, trying to reassert who was in control. "Few questions then, Drake. 'Ow much do you actually know 'bout these prossies?" He shot a furious look at Chris, who was on the verge of giggling. "I mean, it's not jus' prancin' about an' flashin' a bit o' skirt."

Alex looked a bit taken aback; impressed that he was being so efficient about the whole procedure. She had fully expected to have to defend her position to a roomful of coarse language, and crude stares.

"Well, I'll have to be a bit ballsy and brash to – you know – get them talking..."

"Nothin' new there then..."

Ignoring Ray's aside, she focused on Gene and continued.

"...But I can't be too ballsy – don't want to get myself into a sticky situation if a punter turns up..."

Both Ray and Chris sniggered at the words: 'sticky situation'.

"... But I'll have a fish around - see if I can't get to the bottom of this Mr Right guy."

"Bet the Guv'd love to get to 'er bottom." More sniggers followed Chris' whispered comment.

"_Will you two SHUT UP_!" Gene Hunt turned to the pair and glared at them; glad of the opportunity to vent the anger and embarrassment that rose inside of him in equal measures. Ray quickly put on a dour expression, and Chris looked away, covering up the grin with his hand.

"Right, Drake, good plan." He turned back to face her, willing his mind back onto the job. "But 'ave you got any idea 'ow to act around them? I mean – you bein' a posh bird 'n' everythin'..."

Instead of replying, Alex paused, before allowing a wicked grin to spread across her face. The opportunity was too good to waste.

Holding his gaze, she adjusted her stance slightly; hips in, chest pushed out, head tipped coquettishly to one side. She took a few steps towards him, and with her eyes still fixed on his, allowed the white, leather jacket to slip off her, exposing the dress beneath.

Jaws dropped as the many pairs of eyes took in just how tight the dress was. It was stretched almost to breaking-point over the rise of her breasts; dipping and curving over the satisfying shape of her hips and torso. One black, lacy bra-strap was visible where her dress had slipped slightly off one shoulder, and the outline of her nipples could be clearly seen through the thin, red material.

She continued to move across the room to Gene, never once dropping her gaze, and had soon covered the gap between them.

He had stood his ground, and like every other person in the room, was too captivated by her to move. Before he knew it, Alex had slipped right up next to him, and had pressed her body hard to his.

"'Ello, love" Her accent seemed to change with her new persona. "Can you 'elp me? I'm new 'round 'ere and I've been told to watch out for the bad blokes." She allowed an innocent pout to form on her lips, as she leant in close to his ear.

"You're not a _bad_ boy, are you?" She whispered deliciously into his ear, and slid one hand boldly onto his thigh.

Gene Hunt swallowed hard and looked down as Alex's hand travelled slowly and deliberately around to his inside leg.

"I _love_ bad boys..." She flicked her tongue lightly against his earlobe and was pleased to feel him jump.

His eyes remained fixed on her hand, which was now making its way decidedly upwards, her fingernails grazing the inside of his thigh, leaving a trail of fire behind them. Gene had almost stopped breathing, his every molecule urging her to continue, yet desperately wishing she would stop.

"_Eh-hum_"

Someone coughed, and the spell was broken. Gene's hand flew out and grabbed Alex's wrist, forcing her away from his growing arousal. Looking around at the team gazing at them, he quickly met her eyes.

"What the bleedin' 'ell are you playin' at Bolly?"

"Well I thought that was obvious – I was proving to you that I can do 'tarty'." She dropped the accent immediately, stepping away from him slightly.

"Oh," he mumbled, leaning back against the desk and trying to look at ease.

Truth be told, he was anything but relaxed; what was it about this woman that so turned him on? Obviously the outfit, whispered words and hand gestures didn't help, but he couldn't remember the last time he had felt this... frustrated. Looking down guiltily at his slightly tented trousers he quickly stepped around to the other side of the desk and leant on it, hoping that no-one had noticed the effect she had on him.

"Well?"

"Well what?" He looked at her in some confusion.

"Do I pass? Can I act the part?"

"More than pass if you ask me..." Ray muttered to an equally gobsmacked Chris.

"Not bad, Drake, not too bad, I suppose." Gene was reluctant to let on to her just how good her 'acting' was; mainly because a small part of was inclined to think that there was more than professional motive behind a behaviour. How many late nights at the office had he spent dreaming about just such an occasion? He had even taken to jotting down quick doodles of these such exploits, but had since given that up when one of them had taken the unsavoury pride of place on the staff notice-board. Luckily, Drake hadn't seen it; unconsciously he patted his breast pocket, checking that it was still lying folded up and hidden in there.

"I'll be off then, shall I?" Alex sighed, realising that this was about the best compliment she could expect from a guarded Gene Hunt. There had been a momentary lapse back there, when she had felt him open up to her. She had felt the shiver pass through him when she whispered into his ear; the early hints of his erection had not passed her by either. But as soon as he had remembered where they were, he had closed up like a clam, putting up professional walls in front of his team.

"Yeah, I suppose so." He seemed at a loss for anything more constructive to say.

"I'll see you later then?"

"Oh yeah, later..." he trailed off, caught off-guard as he remembered their dinner plans. Clearing his throat, he looked around at the raised eyebrows. "Uh, I mean, yeah, I'll probably catch you later, Drake."

Rolling her eyes and smirking to herself, Alex left the office with a purposeful stride, leaving a slightly flustered Gene to explain to his colleagues.

* * *

"Need a light, love?"

Shaking her head at the girl, Alex Drake leant back against the brick wall and considered her position. She had been loitering down this alley-way for the past four hours, chatting to the various girls that frequented this notorious end of town. She had talked to a few about the mysterious Mr Right, and had managed to glean small pieces of information. Yes, they had heard of him, and yes, he had been seen around these parts recently.

Sadly, none of them could give her a good description of the man in question, but Alex could understand why. The street was so badly lit, that at six o'clock it was now barely possible to make out facial features at all. She squinted, and looked across at the girl who had just offered her a cigarette.

Her name was Ruby O'Donnel, or so she said, and had lived on the streets for the past five years, scraping a living where she could.

"Barely twenty, and already on the streets – it's just not right," Alex muttered to herself. "In ten years or so there'll be charities and places she can go to for help. I bet she hasn't even heard of contraceptives or AIDS..." she sighed, shaking her head at the girl's fate. "Not that it matters, I guess – I mean, this _is_ all in my mind..." Again she trailed off, lost in her thoughts. She was beginning to lack conviction, and knew that, as the days became weeks, it was getting harder and harder to convince herself that all of this was in her imagination.

"Alex?"

She looked up sharply at the sound of her name.

"What are you doing here?" It was Evan.

"I – uh – police-work," she kept her voice low, and looked up at him in some surprise.

"Dressed like that?" He raised an eyebrow, allowing a frown to cut across his handsome features.

"I – it's a long story... But what on earth are you doing down here?" Her voice was laced with confusion.

"Oh," he looked a little flustered, but quickly continued, "I always come this way – it's a good short-cut from the office – much quicker – even if the company here is a little..." he looked around scathingly, "...less than desirable?"

Alex cleared her throat, swallowing down the retort that automatically sprung to her lips, and Evan, seeing this, changed the subject quickly.

"So, any idea when you're going to be finished?"

"Oh, I shouldn't imagine I'll be too much longer really," she gestured at her watch, "I was thinking of packing it up pretty soon – it's getting a bit too dark now." She giggled nervously and looked up at him.

"Well in that case, can I put it to you that you join me for a quick drink at my place?"

"Oh, Evan, I've sort of got something planned for later..." she said, allowing her mind to wander to thoughts of Gene and their dinner plans.

"Oh that's fine," he cut in quickly, as though he wasn't too bothered, "It's just that I've got a couple of things that Caroline wants me to go over for little Alex's birthday – you know, her daughter? – and well, I thought I could run some ideas past you. But if you're not interested..." He turned away as if to leave, but Alex grabbed his shoulder, stopping him.

"Look, I'm sorry, I'd love to help. Maybe I could pop over – for a few minutes..."

She had fought a momentary battle of wills: half of her knowing that Gene would already be waiting for her; the other half desperate for any nostalgia this world could throw at her.

"Excellent, that'd be great!" In the half-darkness she saw his face split into a grin, and he proffered his arm to her.

"Only a few minutes, mind," she repeated, as she took his arm.

"It'll take ten-minutes, tops," he promised, and they strode off down the alley-way.

* * *

"Where the bloody 'ell is she?" Gene Hunt muttered to himself as he poured himself a third glass of red wine, and stared moodily at the closed door to the street.

He had been sitting at the bar for a good half an hour, waiting nervously for his DI to put in an appearance. In fact, the only person who had taken any notice of him, was Luigi, who had brought him the bottle of wine, mumbling something about the "lovely Seignora". Gene checked his watch again, and frowned – it wasn't like Alex to be late.

The door clicked open, and Gene looked up quickly to see –

"DC Skelton – what a lovely surprise," he muttered drolly, and returned to staring down at his glass.

"Guv!" Chris hurried over to him, his face flushed, and hair damp from the rain.

"What is it? You need datin' advice? 'Cos I've told you before – I'm not a great ponce like Tyler - "

"No, Guv! It's... it's..." He bent over double, trying to catch his breath.

"Come on spit it out, you twonk!"

"It's DI Drake, Guv!"

"Got lost as she? Staggerin' about the streets with 'er map upside down? Dozy bird – she better 'ave a good excuse for not bein' 'ere on time." Gene fiddled aimlessly with his wine glass.

"It's that Evan-bloke Guv – she's gone off with 'im."

"WHAT?"

"Me 'n' Ray went to check up on 'er, like, an' this girl, Ruby, said that she'd seen 'er go off with this bloke she'd called Evan."

Gene stared down at the bar, his eyes unseeing. It felt like he'd been knocked for six; he had been so sure that they had been getting somewhere; that they shared something. And all the time, she had been stringing him along like a puppet, whilst she got cosy with this Evan bloke. He ground his teeth, balling his fingers into a fist, and felt the shaky foundations of their fledgling relationship crash down around him; every newly-awoken romantic nerve in his body reduced to rubble.

"Guv?" Chris spoke softly, and was unprepared for Gene's fury.

"WHAT?"

"There's somethin' else you oughta know."

"WHAT?" Gene felt that the single word was enough; anger and outrage didn't lend themselves to an eloquent vocabulary.

"That girl Ruby? She said that Evan bloke dropped this."

Chris held out a shaking hand, as though afraid the DCI would tear the limb off.

Draining his glass in the vain hope of some Dutch courage, Gene looked around at the object in his DC's palm.

He took in the single, red rose-bud and sprayed his mouthful of wine all over Chris.

"SHIT!"

He grabbed his coat, and was half-way across the room before Chris could react. Shaking his dripping head, and wiping his face, the DC sprinted after his superior, muttering apologies to the concerned diners on his way out.

From the street, he heard Hunt yell back to him.

"FIRE UP THE QUATTRO! I'M COMING, BOLLY!"

* * *

**Mwahaha - evil cliffhanger! Bet you didn't see that coming!**

**Hope you're all enjoying this!**

**Hopefully will update before the finale tonight! If not, I shall see you all on the other side!**

**Thanks for your continued support!**

**GeneGenie xxx**

* * *


	5. Trouble

****

Chapter 5 – the last instalment – I hope you get to read this before the finale, but if not, I hope it cheers you after!

* * *

"Fancy a nightcap?"

Alex Drake looked up to see Evan waving a bottle of red and two glasses in her direction.

"No, really, I can't – I said I couldn't stay long." The wine only served to remind her how painfully late she already was for dinner with Gene. "Look, what was it you were going to show me?"

"Why the rush? Can't these plans of yours wait?" He sounded friendly enough, but Alex noted the slight frown of impatience that briefly crossed his features.

"If you must know, I'm having dinner with Gene Hunt – and no it can't wait. He's been waiting far too long already; I said I'd be there at six-thirty." She looked up at him apologetically, hoping that she hadn't sounded too anxious. "So then, these ideas for Alex's birthday?"

She tried to get the conversation back on track, but Evan was having none of it.

"Look, you're already late – what difference is one little glass of wine going to make?" He sounded edgy, and a little too keen.

"Look, Evan – "

"Please?"

Alex sighed; he was like a whiny child, maybe it was best just to humour him. After all, what harm could one small glass do?

"Ok – one glass, mind!" She looked pointedly at her watch.

"Excellent!" A grin spread across his face. "I'll just go and open this up." And he disappeared into the kitchen, in search of a corkscrew.

"What am I doing?" Alex muttered quietly to herself.

She was supposed to having drinks with Gene right now; arguing over his choice of pizza, and taking stolen glances at his hand on the table, wishing she had the courage to take it. What was she doing in Evan White's flat; the godfather to her daughter and the man who was sleeping with her mother on the side? He clearly had more than friendly or professional intentions towards her, so why was she giving him the chance to explore them? She should have nipped this in the bud, not encouraged it.

"One drink," she promised herself, "and then I'm going."

* * *

The Quattro flew around the corner, wheels spinning and engine roaring.

"Where does this fancy ponce live?" Gene shot back at his Duty Constable.

"I dunno, Guv." Chris hung on to his seatbelt for dear life, as Hunt flung the car around the next bend.

"Well what bloody use is that?" He gave the wheel another sharp tug and his companion was thrown against the door.

"_Way knowsh_"

"_What_? I don't speak 'industani!"

Peeling his face from where it had been mashed against the window, Chris repeated himself more distinctly.

"I said – Ray knows"

"Right – and where is Raymondo?"

"Back at the station, I think. Said 'e –"

But whatever it was that Ray was doing, Gene never knew. As he slammed his foot to the metal and twisted the wheel, he heard a thud and a groan, and saw Chris colliding with the window once more. Ignoring his DC, Gene pushed the Quattro forwards, and swerved it expertly around a series of tight bends in the narrow London streets.

* * *

"Here you go."

Evan had reappeared from the kitchen, and Alex leant forwards to take the proffered glass.

"Thanks," she took a sip and settled back on the leather sofa, "Now, what has Caroline said to you about Alex's birthday?"

Evan didn't look as eager as she was to talk about little Alex; in fact, he didn't look too eager at all.

"Can we just forget about that for now? How about you tell me a little more about yourself?"

Alex frowned and took a deep draught of wine; this wasn't at all what she had in mind. Every second she spent here in Evan's company reminded of her of how much she wanted to see Gene. There was none of this sly talk, luring her in with nostalgic talk, and then laying on the charm. Gene Hunt didn't lay on the charm so much as he threw bucket-loads of it at her. There would be no smooth-talking, just straight-up, blunt flirting layered with the raw emotions that she had only recently uncovered. It was easy and comfortable with him, she could drink and banter with him for hours and never notice the time fly by; he felt like an anchor in this strange new world she had stumbled upon. Something to cling on through the storm. Home.

"Alex?" Evan's voice cut through her reverie, and she looked back up at him.

She was somewhat unnerved to discover that he was much closer than she remembered. He seemed to have slid along the sofa, and was now only about half a metre away. She bit her lip, and for the first time, noticed the strange taste in her mouth; it was acidic and slightly salty – like some sort of metal.

She frowned, where had she tasted that before? Images of hospitals; a fresh-faced screaming Molly; and men in white coats flashed before her eyes. She rolled her tongue around her mouth and took another mouthful of wine, in an attempt to clear her palette. The taste came again, but stronger, disguised by the giddy scent of the red wine.

She looked down at the glass in her hand, then up at Evan, and things suddenly began to click. She could hear the Rubix Cube click and twist inside her mind, and felt snatches of comprehension dawn on her.

"_Short brown 'air, sideburns, tall, smarmy bloke"_

A description on a witness report that Chris had taken down the other night. She glanced up at Evan; it was almost word perfect.

And earlier...what had Evan White been doing down that disreputable alley-way?

"_Oh...I always come this way"_

She frowned again. Evan White. White. Why did that name ring a bell?

"_Well, says 'e 'eard someone call 'im, Mr Right,"_

What if Ray had got it wrong the other day in the pub? What if the bar-man had said 'White', not 'Right'?...

She gasped and looked up to find that Evan was now a mere foot from her, a strange look in the shadows of his eyes.

* * *

_BBBBBBBBEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPP_!

Pulling up outside the station with a shriek of brakes, Gene Hunt left the car running and slammed his fist onto the horn.

Within seconds, Ray had appeared from within, and fairly flew down the steps to the waiting car.

"GET IN YOU TWONK!"

Chris scrambled awkwardly into the backseat, hurried along with slaps from an impatient Gene, while Ray threw himself into the passenger-seat. His feet had barely left the pavement before Hunt had crashed his cow-boy boots onto the throttle, and the Quattro soared off into the night, revs screaming.

"Which way, Raymondo?"

"Other side of town, Guv, down 'ardy Street"

"Right! 'Old onto yer dinners, boys!" And yanking at the wheel, they shot around the corner, two wheels spinning, useless, in the air. Narrowly missing another parked car, Gene willed the car on, hoping it had as much determination as he did.

* * *

"Evan! What –"

But she suddenly silenced when he clapped a large hand over her mouth.

"_Ssshhhhh_, don't struggle, it'll only make it worse..." His voice was somehow inhuman; cold and unfeeling – it sent shivers down Alex's spine.

"_MMPPPGHHHMMPMPPHH_!"

She screamed against his hand, and tried to bite it, struggling to push it off her. But he had her arms now, and pushed them up above her head, rendering her helpless – completely at his mercy.

She tried desperately to fight back, but he was too strong.

"_MMMMPPHHEVVVVNNN!_"

Twisting in his grasp, she could already feel the drugs coursing through her system, shutting her body down, inch by inch. She blinked and stared desperately up at him, eyes wide and full of tears; pleading.

"It won't hurt... and it won't take too long..." he seemed to be grinning down at her, but she couldn't really be sure, as his face kept swimming in and out of focus.

She could feel the coldness now too, creeping up and consuming her like a frost. She shivered violently, and struggled against him, much weaker now.

"_mppphhggggevvvnnn_..."

Darkness seemed to wash over her. It started in the corner of her eyes, and gradually spread, taking all light and hope with it. She could barely breathe now; feeling the air slow and clammy in her lungs.

"It'll take ten minutes... tops... I told you..."

Even his voice seemed distant now, and Alex tried to open her eyes, but all she could see was a terrible, all-consuming darkness.

And suddenly there was white; a blinding, shimmering white. Hope leapt in her heart, but was quickly replaced fear - pure, unadulterated horror – as the ghostly figure of the clown sprung into her mind.

It opened its mouth and she wanted to scream, but found that she couldn't.

"Goodnight, Alex..."

She gasped, but there was no air left, she coughed and struggled in terror. But no help came.

Alex closed her eyes and blackness came.

She knew no more.

* * *

"Is this it?"

"That's the place, Guv," Ray pointed to the tall, foreboding building opposite them.

"Well what are you waitin' for then? _MOVE_!"

Gene was already half-way across the street before Ray had extracted himself from the passenger seat. Chris stumbled after him, and fell flat on his face as he tripped over a lever attached to the chair.

"_Come ON_!" Hunt half-whispered, half shouted at them, and picking themselves up, the pair followed him at a sprint.

Gene was taking no chances, and slammed into the front door with all his brute strength, feeling a little mollified as the wood splintered, and it crashed open.

"I thought were goin' for the 'softly, softly' approach?" Ray muttered to Chris.

"SOD THAT!" Gene yelled back at them, and shrugging, they set off up the stairs in hot pursuit.

DCI Hunt burst through the living room door with the force of a freight train, and quickly locked eyes on a surprised Evan, who leapt quickly to his feet.

"What the _bloody 'ell_ 'ave you done with, DI Drake?!"

Evan glanced quickly down at the blanketed bundle on the sofa behind him, and Gene's eyes followed.

"BASTARD!"

He wanted to fly at the man, punching, kicking and lashing out at every inch he could reach, but decided to leave that to Ray and Chris, who had just appeared behind him.

Instead, he threw himself down next to that ominous bundle on the sofa; hoping - praying - that she was still alive.

But even as he lifted the blanket and peered desperately into her glassy eyes, he knew that they were too late.

A yelling, swearing struggle seemed to erupt behind him, as Chris and Ray began to lay into Evan; but Gene Hunt heard nothing. His entire focus was on the woman lying here, unmoving, before him.

He felt nothing, not even the tear that ran unchecked down his face.

Leaning down, he placed a light kiss on her cold lips.

"I'm so sorry, Alex."

* * *

**There may be another chapter...**

**Gosh, am I more evil than the A2A writers?**

**I think so...**

* * *


	6. Do Or Die

**Chapter 6 – prepare to be shocked.**

* * *

But what was he sorry for? Because she had died on duty, on an undercover operation that he had suggested? Because he hadn't been there fore her when she needed him most? For not going with his gut instinct and banging up that sorry-arsed Evan-bloke on first sight?

Or was he sorry because he had never told her how he felt? How he wanted sometimes just to hug her tightly to his chest and tell her everything would be alright? How she had changed his life – challenging his every word and compelling him to fight back with renewed energy? How she was the last thing on his mind at night, and the first person he longed to see every morning?

He was sorry that she would never know that her every footstep rocked his world.

As his world crumbled around him, Gene sank forward with a terrible whimper onto her body. The noise spoke of sorrow and pity; frustration and anger; loneliness and isolation – in short, it was the sound of his heart breaking in two.

Unconsciously, his hand reached up to cup her face, as though he thought the warmth could revive her. He found that he _needed_ to touch her; to feel her skin on his, as he had so often longed to do. Now there was nothing to stop him, he thought bitterly.

Yet even as his fingers rested gently on her skin, he felt something and his heart skipped a beat.

Quickly, he pressed two fingers hard against her neck, just below her ear.

Yes, there it was again – a pulse!

Admittedly it was faint, like the wings of a butterfly trapped between his palms – but still, it _was_ a pulse. Gene stopped breathing, listening again. He felt the slight mutter of sound, but this time it was much weaker; he could practically feel her body shutting down, giving up its last tenuous grip on life. But there was just the slightest chance that Alex was still alive...

"_Christ_ on a bike!"

He sprung into action: ripping her dress open, ignoring the buttons that flew across the room, and pressing his ear to her chest – listening. Not even aware of the cries of pain from the struggle behind him, Gene bit his tongue in impatience as he listened desperately for confirmation of life within.

He could hear nothing.

Gritting his teeth in determination, Gene pulled quickly away, refusing to believe that he had imagined that pulse.

"Come _ON_!"

He wasn't too sure who he had directed the comment at, although both of them needed the encouragement; he needed to get his act together, and Alex needed to fight back. Flexing his fingers briefly, he took one last look at her white face, before placing both hands quickly and carefully in the centre of her chest. Summoning up the dusty memories of CPR training, he pushed down with the heel of his palm, counting to thirty and praying that his technique wasn't too rusty.

"...twenty-nine – thirty!" He pulled back, panting, before bending his head down to hers, listening for signs of breathing. No response.

"Shit" The one word seemed to sum up how he was feeling with incredible accuracy. Biting his lip, he cast back into the dark recesses of memory; suddenly grasping at the second part of the procedure. Quickly pinching her nose with two fingers, he prised Alex's mouth open with the other shaking hand and quickly pressed his own lips to hers.

Even as he forced two life-giving breaths into her impassive body, Gene couldn't help his mind wandering; reliving that kiss of two nights previous, he marvelled at how soft her lips were against his, and instantly missed her ballsy response. How much would he give to feel her mouth move against his, her hand scrunched in his hair as she pulled him closer...?

"Get a _grip_, Gene," he half-muttered to himself, as he drew quickly back and once again put his ear to her lips, checking for signs of life. There was still nothing.

"_Come on, Drake_!" His hands were back on her chest again, the heels of his palms pumping furiously up and down, as though he could somehow force the life back into her with strength of will alone.

"FIGHT! _Come ON_ – _FIGHT_, BOLLY!"

Finishing the second round of chest-presses, he quickly bent back down to her mouth, puffing two more breaths into that lifeless mouth. Hope fluttering in his chest, he swivelled his ear once more to her lips, praying to feel the tell-tale rush of air on his skin. Nothing.

His hands were once more on her chest, working vigorously to revive her, and Gene panted with the effort.

"...thirteen – fourteen – COME ON!"

He was scared now – more frightened than he could ever remember being before. Just when she had begun to open up to him - when he had begin to think that they could be something more than just friends – she had been snatched away from him. He could feel hot tears burning his eyes, and hastily wiped them on his shoulder, as he continued to pump at her chest. She couldn't die, she simply couldn't – he wouldn't let her...

"_WAKE UP_, ALEX!"

Finishing the last cycle of chest-presses, he once more sealed his lips to hers, and breathed out hard.

He knew that this was his last chance; her body couldn't take much more of this, and neither could he. The pain of hope and longing was unbelievable; it felt like he was being torn apart, like all of his emotions were laid out in front of him and being ripped to pieces.

"Alex... please... wake up for me... Alex?" It was the voice of a broken man.

He closed his eyes, unable to look at her any longer, and seemed to visibly crumple, falling onto her chest, knowing all his efforts to be useless.

_Buh-dum_

The sound was faint and irregular, as though it were only in his distracted imagination. Gene held his breath and his eyes flickered open, paying full attention now, and waiting desperately for that sound again.

_BUH-dum_

It came again; stronger now, and a little louder - he felt her skin vibrate a little, as though the sound came from within.

_BUH-DUM!_

Gene Hunt nearly shouted with relief, as he felt the strength of her pulse return to her, matching his own as it hammered against his ribcage. Sitting up quickly, his eyes immediately drawn to her face, silently praying for her to open her own, and fix those hazel orbs on him once more.

Then, suddenly, it happened. There was a long, gasping breath and before Gene knew it, he had a mouthful of brown curls and a cold body had flung its arms around him.

"ALEX!" He hugged her to him, grinning wildly into her shoulder, and gave her a quick squeeze.

"Gene!" She panted his name between urgent breaths, and began to gibber nonsensically "Drugs – Evan – where –"

"It's alright – we've got 'im – you're safe!" He muttered soothingly, now stroking her hair.

But Alex was sobbing; shaking violently, she grasped his lapels and wept uncontrollably onto his shoulder. Gene didn't know what to do, but settled for rubbing soothing circles on her back, and holding her closer still. He felt dazed; confused feelings of elation and shock coursing through him in equal measures. All that he knew was the women in his arms; her perfume in his nose; her arms around him; her heart beating furiously against his – his Alex.

"Cor – you're bloody freezin'" His voice was gruff with unfamiliar emotion, as he rubbed her cold, damp skin with his warmer hands.

Alex merely sniffed, choking as a sob caught in her throat.

"Come 'ere, little lady" Gene pulled back slightly, before opening his jacket for her. She slipped her grateful arms around him once again, and he pulled her back into the embrace, wrapping the warm jacket around them both.

"I can think of better ways t' warm a bird up..."

Gene felt Alex snort softly against his chest, and looked around for the owner of the voice, only to see a triumphant, but battered-looking, Ray and Chris standing over them. He was somewhat surprised to see them there; Alex's fate had distracted him so completely that he had almost clean forgotten about his officers and Evan.

Seemingly reading his mind, Chris grinned and pointed to the prostate and bloodied figure on the other side of the room.

"It's alright, Guv – we got 'im."

Ray nodded, wiping blood from his chin, and expounded on the situation.

"Yeah – an' I don't think 'e's gonna be messin' with the Met any time soon – not where 'e's goin'..."

"...'Cos 'e's gonna be banged up in the nick," Chris added, unhelpfully.

"Div..." Ray rolled his eyes and elbowed his colleague in the side.

Gene looked down at Alex, exchanging a grin with her. Wiping her eyes against the back of her hand, she brought her hand up to cup his cheek, using her thumb to wipe the solitary tear from the corner of his eye.

"Thanks, Gene."

He knew that she wanted to say more, but didn't push her. There would be time later to talk it through – they had all the time in the world.

"No worries," he said softly, as he helped her up to her unsteady feet.

"Now then," he eyed her up and down, taking in the tight little red dress he had picked out for her two days before, "You got that 'ooker outfit sorted – so what 'bout that dinner?"

* * *

**Short – but don't worry – there's a little more to come!**

**Thanks for all the cookies!**


	7. Another Side

**Change of plan – THIS is the penultimate chapter. It was getting long, so I stretched it out – plus you get the update quicker! Sorry it's been so long – enjoy. Oh and get the tissues ready – you have been warned.**

* * *

"Earth to Bolly"

"What?" The DI looked quickly up from the menu in front of her, eyes slightly glazed as they reflected the flickering candlelight.

"You alright?"

Alex bit her lip and looked away, not wanting to meet his gaze; how could she be 'alright'? She had, only a few hours earlier, nearly died at the hands of the man who was both her childhood guardian and her daughter's godfather; a daughter, incidentally, who she wasn't sure ever to set eyes on again, trapped as she was in this surreal time-loop, where both everything and nothing seemed real.

"Bolls?"

She felt a strange sensation of rough warmth and looked up to see the unlikely sight of Gene's hand on hers. His large paw seemed to engulf her slender one completely and, as she met his eyes, he gave it a tender squeeze. It was as though his hand had squeezed her heartstrings too, for she felt a sudden pang of emotion rocket through her as she saw the unguarded insecurities behind his eyes.

As she tentatively squeezed his hand back, Alex realised something. The man sitting before her was no longer just her brash, mouthy, dinosaur of a DCI. Nor was he Signor Hunt, another macho bloke whose evenings were best spent with the lads, staring into the bottom of a bottle, cigarette in hand. He wasn't even the Gene Genie: that ballsy, proud individual who loved to push the boundaries, his car, and his team to the limits.

No, she realised, right now, he was just Gene: defences down; concern written all over his face; pitiful hope in his eyes.

He was just a boy, sitting in front of a girl, holding her hand over dinner.

"Anty-pasta?"

Alex was thrown back to reality with a jerk. "What?"

"I dunno what it is, but it's the most expensive 'n' I'm starvin' – you got yer mains sorted yet?"

"Oh right - um...," she spluttered, snatching her hand away and hastily looking back down at the menu, "I don't mind – you choose for me." Alex was far too absorbed in her thoughts of today and the man sitting opposite her to think about food.

Casting a glance at her flustered face, Gene Hunt swivelled around in his chair, seeking out the barman.

"Oi, Luigi – get your arse over 'ere – we're starvin'!"

The old Italian hurried over to their table, leaving another group of diners open-mouthed, their orders only half-given.

"_Si _si - What is it Signor Hunt? What is it you want?"

"Two of your finest rump steaks –" his eyes quickly flickered up to meet Alex's as he enunciated his 'r's, "- bottle o' red and some o' this ant-pasta stuff." He closed the menu with a sharp _snap_ and thrust it towards the older man.

"Yes, yes – good choice, Signor. I hope the beautiful Signora here is happy, too, with your choice?"

"It sounds wonderful, Luigi," Alex smiled, blushing as the avuncular Italian winked at the pair of them.

"Just don't you go puttin' any insects in my dinner, Luigi – or I've got a cell with your name on it!"

Alex opened her mouth to reply, but settled for rolling her eyes in exasperation, and when Gene cleared his throat pointedly, the little, old man scuttled away to kitchens in a hurry, leaving the two of them alone once more.

"So then, uh, Drake..." Gene's attempts to initiate conversation seemed half-hearted at best, assuming that awkward silence was better than anything that he could come up with.

"I know, Gene."

She stretched out a hand and slipped it gingerly over his. The self-proclaimed lion was content to simply watch the proceedings, biding his time and conserving all his energy for the hunt. Feeling a mixture of anticipation and alcohol spur her on, Alex rubbed her thumb lightly across the back of his hand. Lost in the sensation of skin on tingling skin, she became bold; flipping his hand over, she linked her fingers with his, squeezing their palms together. Feeling braver still, Alex impulsively tugged his hand towards her, bringing it up to nestle against her cheek, luxuriating in the feel of his warm palm against her skin.

Even as his breath caught in his throat, Gene acted on that primal instinct that made him such a good copper; without further thought, he reached out and tenderly stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb. When Alex leaned into his touch and nuzzled his hand, with hers still clasped tightly over it, he felt his chest suddenly tighten with emotion and unconsciously, he found himself leaning forwards in his seat. Seeing an errant lock of hair fall across her eye, Gene reached up to brush it away with his free hand but, as he tucked it behind her ear and felt the warmth of her body, he allowed his fingers to linger over the tender skin, ghosting across her temple and neck.

Alex sensed the strange, opposing forces of her racing heart and halted breathing, as she shivered deliciously under his touch. Meeting his eyes again, she was startled by the raw emotion she saw staring back at her, mirroring that which she was sure her own eyes betrayed. On past occasions, she thought she caught a glimpse of it in those ocean-orbs of his, struggling to break free from a prison of pride and barely healed scars. But now, all was laid bare for her to see. No more pretending. Gene held her eyes with a glance so tender and so open, that it almost broke her heart.

"Uh, excusa me? Antipasta for two?"

Alex promptly dropped Gene's hand in shock, whilst he withdrew his other hand so swiftly, he nearly fell off his chair. The unexpected appearance of Luigi seemed to bring them back down to earth with a jolt; both looked quickly down at the dishes laid before them, all at once red-faced and shy.

"I not interrupt anything, Signor Hunt?" the little, old man's facade of innocence was fooling no-one.

Gene grumbled something non-committal, concentrating so hard on his food that he looked as though he was trying to memorise every breadcrumb.

"I leave you to it then..."

Alex looked up to mutter a thanks, but the kindly Italian was already gone.

* * *

Having stumbled haphazardly through the silence that accompanied the starter, Gene watched tentatively as Alex worked her way through the main course. He observed that, as with everything his DI did, she carried it off with a certain amount of finesse. She cut every piece of steak with the upmost precision, holding her cutlery just-so, giving away the upmarket, Oxford education of her roots. But despite the clinical dissection, Gene could tell that she enjoyed every mouthful; peeking up from his own plate, he watched as slipped the morsel delicately off the fork, her tongue wrapping around it, drawing it into her mouth. He watched as her eyes half closed in pleasure, her taste-buds savouring every titbit, and felt his own mouth begin to water.

Alex watched him as well, sneaking glimpses when she knew he wasn't looking. There was something about his manner - the way he sat hunched with uncertainty over his plate, or the awkwardness with which he held knife and fork in his clumsy paws – that made her insides melt. She took it all in: his posture; the furtive glances; the napkin tucked comically into his shirt; and the realisation hit her like a ton of bricks.

"You don't do this often, do you, Gene?" Her words seemed to startle him, and he promptly dropped his cutlery with a noisy _clatter_.

"What?"

Alex said nothing, but instead indicated their now-empty plates.

"Dinner?" He furrowed his brows, looking confusedly across at her. "'Course I've 'ad dinner before you dozy tart – even the Gene Genie has to eat sometimes..." He paused again and sudden concern glazed his eyes, "You ok? Not got concussion or nothin' 'ave you?"

"No, Gene, I assure you I'm perfectly sane," she smiled, barely refraining from rolling her eyes. "I mean this –" she swept her hand in a vague, circular gesture, "taking someone to dinner."

"Yeah, 'course I 'ave – don't be daft!" His tone was immediately defensive, and he seemed to sit up a little straighter, as if trying to fend off any further enquiries.

"Gene," The single word was question, answer and gentle remonstration all rolled into one.

He opened his mouth as if to answer back, but seemed to check his reaction, and closed it again with a sigh. Hunching further forwards, he leant in close as though he had no desire to be overheard.

"Alright then, you want the truth, Bolls?" his voice was suddenly low and unguarded, "Never."

"What?" It was Alex's turn to look confused.

"Dinner"

"You mean you've never...?" Alex trailed off, the half formed question lost to the air, gazing dumbly as he mirrored her earlier movements, indicating their empty plates.

Gene toyed wistfully with the stem of his wine-glass and lowered his eyes as he spoke, as though to himself, "The missus never liked it – never liked anythin' much really –" Sighing heavily he seemed momentarily absorbed in his memories, but after a time, he continued. "We were young – too young – kids really... It was a drunken fling... well, it was supposed to be..." He stopped again, briefly lost in thought, before finishing his story. "...but then she said she was up the duff... so I did the 'onourable thing an' married 'er."

"You've got a _child_?" Alex had no desire to break his flow of memories and the invaluable insight they provided, but she just couldn't help herself interrupting. How was it possible that Gene Hunt – the gruff, misogynistic, borderline alcoholic - was a father?

"Dead"

The single word hit her with a dull _thump_, and Alex felt her breath catch in her throat with a spluttering squeak. She just stared at him, open-mouthed, and ears ringing with a strange peal of ghostly bells.

"Meningitis they reckoned – she was ten days old –" he tried to go on, but his voice was cracking so much, that he couldn't speak. Alex saw it all – the inner battle; he was too pained to talk, but knew that if he didn't force himself to go on, he never would. She saw as he scrabbled desperately for control over his emotions, his fists bunched with the effort that continuing the tale cost him.

"Missus couldn't 'andle it – any feelin's we 'ad were gone – kaput. Still, we stuck together – thought it would get better..." he looked miserably down at his knuckles, "... it never did. Fourteen years we'd been together – and we never celebrated one anniversary – not one. She was busy... or ill - always an excuse. I should've spotted the signs.

Got 'ome one night after a couple of hours in the pub with the lads... and she'd gone. No clothes. No note. Nothin'. Jus' upped an' left.

I didn't stay long. Another five years or so, an' me an' the boys moved down 'ere. Couldn't 'ack it any more – goin' 'ome to the same empty 'ouse... same empty bed.

I promised myself then – I'd never do it again – never fall for anyone..."

And as suddenly as he had started, he stopped.

Alex didn't know what to do. This was the longest she had ever heard Gene talk for, but it was a speech woven from the twisted, broken threads of a life lived in bitter and unforgettable sadness. It was as though she was suddenly seeing the real Gene for the first time; the raw and broken humanity that underneath all the blustering outbursts.

He was still the Manc lion, but one who held his paws close to his chest, still trying to cradle the cub that would never return. He had tried to growl his way through life, howling into the night with a pain that would never leave him, but now he couldn't summon a whimper.

Even as he bent his head down in terrible silence, and his shaggy mane fell across his eyes, Alex saw her own shocked face reflected in the single tear that fell with an audible _plink_ onto his empty plate. An empty plate, but a heart so full of pain that it had finally burst its banks, leaving Gene swept away in the torrent of emotion, desperately seeking something, or someone, to keep him from drowning in the horror of it all.

"I –" Alex began to speak, but choked on a gasping sob, and had to start again. "I'm so... sorry." She didn't know how to go on - what to say. Words were superficial; they couldn't fill the gaping void of silent misery.

But she couldn't just sit here.

Alex's body seemed to move of its own accord and, unconscious of the decision to do so, she shuffled round to Gene's side of the table and drew him to her in a tight hug. He resisted only for a second, before he returned the embrace with a force so great it shocked her. She felt him shaking gently against her, and then the salty dampness that pressed into her hair and neck. She buried her head in his shoulder and for a moment they were all at once the sinking ship; the stormy sea; and lighthouse that points them home.

They just held each other.

Snuffling back a broken sob, Gene drew slowly back from her shoulder, sliding both paws up to cup Alex's tear-streaked face. Stormy blue eyes met hazel; both awash with tears; both so intense with emotion that they seemed to overflow; eyes that, like their hearts, had seen too much action.

She knew what he needed, and when he moved, she didn't resist.

His eyes burned into hers, and Alex briefly thought that he muttered something to her. But it was lost in a sigh and she soon forgot.

When he pressed his lips to hers, she felt the world fall down around them.

* * *

**Hope you're used to the cliffhangers by now! One more chapter to go – I promise it won't be so long this time! Full-smut-ahead!**

**GeneGenie x**

**(Thanks to all the reviewers and the guys over on TRA who prompted me to update!)**


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